


Take Me Lost, Make Me Found

by ThatRavenclawBitch



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 00:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13822728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRavenclawBitch/pseuds/ThatRavenclawBitch
Summary: Gold and Belle never thought their first time would be in an abandoned barn during a storm.





	Take Me Lost, Make Me Found

There was something poetic in the fact that she’d run here. Of all the places in town where she could hide, and as loath as she was to admit it that’s what Belle was doing – hiding, she’d ended up here.

A crackle of lightning lit up the darkening skies outside, followed by a peal of thunder and the steady beat of rain on dry earth. It was getting late now, almost twilight, and the warm June day was giving way to a chillier night.

The barn was warm, mostly dry and, despite the musty smell of disuse, there was something comforting about being here. She’d always loved this place, used to sneak away as a child and hide up in the hayloft reading until it grew dark and her mother would start to worry. Back then it had housed horses and Belle would bring them apples from the tree behind the mayor’s office. Sometimes the old farmer who owned the property would let her saddle up one of the horses and ride. But that was years ago now. There were no more horses, no old and kindly farmer, no mother. All that remained was the barn, the woods encroaching around it with no one to keep them at bay, the paddock swallowed up by tall grass. Belle wondered if the barn would soon be swallowed up too and take her memories of joy and freedom with it.

For now, the barn was her hiding place once more.

She hadn’t intended it. That morning when she’d awoken, the white garment bag hung on her closet door and Ruby Lucas banging on her bedroom door with an overloaded makeup bag in hand, she’d fully intended to go through with the wedding.

It was her wedding day.

Well, not _her_ wedding, not truly. Everything from the flowers to the location to the giant poof ball of a white dress Belle was currently wearing had been chosen by her fiancé. Her input had not been needed. If she hadn’t already known from the day Gaston asked her to marry him that she’d never truly want to be his wife, the last eight months of wedding planning would have surely been revelatory on that front.

But still, she’d been putting on a brave face for months now. She could make it through one more day, and then an entire lifetime of being Mrs. Belle Chevalier. She could have done it, buried her feelings, worn a smile on her face, and slowly died inside until she was nothing but a pretty husk of her former self.

But then she’d started the slow walk up the aisle, Gaston planted at the front of the church, a looming specter in a black tux, and she hadn’t seen him.

Belle had scanned the crowd again and again only to come to the conclusion that he wasn’t there. She’d personally invited him and he hadn’t come.

Her hand had grown sweaty in the crook of her father’s arm, her grip on his tuxedo jacket like a vice. Maurice French had looked down at his only daughter and whispered under his breath for her to pull herself together and for once, Belle couldn’t. She dropped her father’s arm and ran out of the church, hearing the gasps of their assembled friends and family and the shouts of her father and fiancé chasing her out on to Main Street.

She’d kicked off her shoes and run barefoot toward the woods and now she was here.

He hadn’t come and that alone had given her the bravery to do what she should have done months ago and stopped this farce of a wedding.

Belle sighed, burying her face in the skirt of her wedding gown, not caring that her makeup was probably smearing across the ivory fabric. The hem was already ruined from her trek to the barn and she hated the thing anyway. It was all wrong for her, too much for her petite frame. Belle would have chosen something sleeker, something that suited her personality more than a ball gown. Belle had once heard that you needed to wear the dress, not let the dress wear you. No bride liked to feel upstaged by her own wedding gown.

But the dress had been only one more disappointment in a long line of them starting with the location. Eight months ago when Belle had still held out hope that maybe she could make this thing with Gaston work, she’d suggested the barn for the location of their wedding. She’d had magazine cut outs and pinterest boards full of ideas with how to dress it up for a rustic chic wedding. Gaston had looked at her like she’d just proposed they get married on the moon and told her in no uncertain terms that the ceremony would take place in the big church at the center of town and his parents had already offered up their country club for the reception and she was insane if she thought he’d ask his business associates and clients to trek into the woods to watch him marry in a cow shed.

After that, Belle had kept her opinions mostly to herself. She told herself if she could grit her teeth and bear it, it would all work out in the end. The one concession Gaston had made to her was her appeal for a summer wedding though she imagined it wouldn’t matter much if it was June or January considering all the festivities would take place indoors. Belle had always imagined outdoor nuptials, the barn doors open wide with white clothed tables dotting the green hill outside. Dancing with her new husband under the starlight, fireflies lighting up the air around them.

In that pretty fantasy, the new husband in question was never Gaston, but Belle had always pushed those thoughts out of her head. She could never have who she really wanted so why want anything else that went along with the fantasy either?

And then he hadn’t come.

As much as Belle had told herself she was doing the brave thing over the past several months, she knew now that she’d been nothing but a coward. She’d convinced herself that bravery consisted of always putting others before yourself, that taking care of her father financially and making Gaston happy were noble pursuits and if there was nothing left for her at the end of it, so be it. But in truth she’d only been avoiding the feelings that had steadily been growing for someone else, convincing herself he could never feel the same way about her and going along with the wedding to distract herself from her aching heart.

If Mr. Gold had been sitting on a pew on the bride’s side, smiling at her with all the other vacuous faces, she would have gone through with it. It would have meant he was there to support her as her friend, and nothing more. But he hadn’t come and in the split second she realized that, Belle had let her imagination run away with her. Perhaps Mr. Gold did feel the same way about her as she did him. Perhaps he couldn’t bear to see her marry someone else. Perhaps he’d left town altogether, a romantic figure escaping under cover of darkness because the one woman he truly loved had chosen another.

It was ridiculous of course and Belle realized that now as she sat huddled in an old barn as a summer rainstorm swelled outside. He just as easily could have had something better to do, some business that needed tending, a friend who needed his help. Perhaps Belle didn’t know him as well as she thought and perhaps she’d overestimated their friendship.

Even if that were all true, she couldn’t regret her actions. If even the smallest hope of Mr. Gold returning her feelings had her running from Gaston as fast as her feet could carry her, she had no business marrying him. It wasn’t fair to either of them and, in the end, leaving would be a kindness more than inflicting years of marital discord.

Even so, the heavy burden of guilt was settling sickeningly in Belle’s belly. She’d been cheating on Gaston for over a year. Not physically, of course. She and Mr. Gold had never shared so much as a kiss. There were times when she thought just maybe he wanted to kiss her. His eyes would flick to her lips ever so quickly when he checked out a book at the library, or his hand would linger on hers when he passed her a teacup in the back of his shop. She chalked it up to her own feelings clouding her judgment.

But she’d certainly been having an emotional affair. Mr. Gold was the one she talked to, the one she shared her innermost thoughts with, the one she told about her day and the little frustrations that dragged her down. He was the one she would seek comfort in when she was sad or upset, the first one she wanted to share good news with. It was odd that the person Belle had become closest to in the world wasn’t her fiancé, but a man 20 years older than her who ran a pawnshop and listened to her ramble about books. 

There was a squelching sound of footsteps in mud outside the barn and Belle tensed, wishing she’d climbed up in to the hayloft despite the cumbersome skirt of her dress. She thought perhaps the rain would have put people off looking for her, but it appeared she had no such luck. She knew her father or Gaston would find her eventually, but she thought she’d have more time.

“Belle?” she heard a familiar voice call from the barn opening. A moment later the wooden door had been slid open slightly on rusty hinges and the object of her thoughts appeared. So he hadn’t split town out of heartbreak after all.

He was dressed in his usual dark suit, a black shirt and tie making him look like he was headed to a funeral. The only concession to color was a red and black printed silk pocket square peaking out. He had his cane braced in one hand, the other wrapped around the handle of a large black umbrella, shielding him from the rain.

He entered the barn, dropping the umbrella from over his head and shaking the rain from it before closing it.

“Belle?” he repeated, glancing around as his eyes adjusted to the gloom inside the barn.

“I’m here,” she said, getting to her feet and hating the wedding dress even more as it hindered her movement.

Gold wheeled around, Belle emerging from her place in one of the old stables. The dim light from outside reflected off her white dress, making her stand out from the dark wood and musty old hay of her surroundings. She was certain she looked a complete fright, but in the moment she didn’t much care.

“How did you know where to find me?” she asked, hating how her voice cracked. He was the person she most and least wanted to see right now. Despite the events of the day she was still so frightened, terrified that she’d burned something down no matter how justified and for as thin a reason as possible.

“You mentioned it once,” he said, propping his umbrella against a stable door and walking closer to Belle. And that was all it took, wasn’t it? Because Mr. Gold listened to her, truly listened. If she’d said it once, he’d remember forever. He was her closest friend, but he didn’t come to her wedding.

“You didn’t come to the wedding,” she said dumbly. Gold looked down at his hand clasped around the gold handle of his cane, the moonstone ring he always wore winking in the failing light.

“I couldn’t,” he said finally.

Belled nodded. “Because you were busy or…” she trailed off, hoping he’d finish her sentence. Instead he deflected.

“Word around town is that you ran out on your wedding,” he said, as if her presence here on today of all days, her ruined wedding dress, weren’t enough proof of that. “Why didn’t you marry Gaston?”

“I couldn’t,” she parroted his answer to her question.

“Belle,” he rasped out her name in a way that sent frissons down her spine, his voice anguished. He took another step toward her. “Why couldn’t you?”

She was still just standing there in her stupid dress, her hair falling from its coiffure, her makeup smeared, feet bare. She was in a barn and she’d done something impulsive and selfish and maybe a little bit brave. She was so tired of hiding her true feelings and it didn’t really matter if Gold returned them or not. Her mother had once told her to do the brave thing and bravery would follow. Maybe leaving Gaston at the alter had been brave because now her blood was hot and the fear she’d held on to for years seemed banished to the farthest reaches of her mind.

“Because he didn’t make me happy and he never would,” she said, straightening her spine. “Because I realized the only reason I was marrying him was because I thought I couldn’t have anything better. Because every time I pictured my wedding day it wasn’t this dress, or that church, or Gaston as the groom. I pictured…” she trailed off, unable to go down that road. “I couldn’t marry him because I don’t love him and I was so tired of living a lie.”

It was Gold’s turn to nod. “I’m glad,” he said. “I’m glad you didn’t do something you’ll regret.”

Belle was glad too. Because despite feeling guilty about hurting Gaston and letting her father down, she knew she was saving them all more heartache in the end. The rain had dulled to a gentle patter, the storm bringing cooler night temperatures as the sun set outside. Belle shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, gooseflesh rising on her bare arms and shoulders.

“Is that why you didn’t come to the wedding?” she asked. “Because you thought I was making a mistake?”

“No,” Gold said with a shake of his head. “I’m prone to thinking all marriage is a mistake, but that’s not why I skipped your wedding.”

“Then why?” she asked, her voice low, barely a whisper.

Gold looked up at her, his dark eyes large and luminous. Belle realized until that moment he’d avoided her gaze, looking at his hands, the ground, the wide skirt of her dress, anywhere but her face. He looked utterly wrecked, tormented, as if looking at her was like staring into the sun and if he looked for too long he would go blind from the strain.

He looked away again quickly and Belle took the few steps still between them until they were standing only inches away. She grabbed his free hand, not braced on his cane, startling him enough to look her in the eye once more.

“Why?” she said again.

Gold licked his lips, the motion of his tongue sweeping across his bottom lip drawing her eye. When she looked back up in to his eyes they were smoldering, dark and intense like she’d never seen them. It took her breath away.

“Surely you must know,” he said, his hand tightening around hers. “Surely you’ve always known.”

His breath was warm against her cool skin and she leaned in closer, entranced by his eyes, his heat, his scent. Everything about him lured her in and always had.

“Liam,” she said, using his given name that she still used so sparingly since the day she'd coaxed it out of him. “Tell me.”

“It’s bad form to attend a wedding when you covet the bride,” he said lowly, his eyes tracing her face. His hand dropped hers, reaching instead to push a curl away from her face, his hand coming to rest against her cheek. “I couldn’t watch you marry someone else, not when I…” he closed his eyes for a moment, his hand tensing against Belle’s cheek.

She could feel her heart fluttering in her chest like a caged bird, a funny comparison considering she’d never felt so free. But after all this time and all this heartache, still neither of them would just say the words.

She let her hands find their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his suit jacket. Gold’s eyes opened to find hers staring up at him, so blue and wet with tears.

“When you weren’t at the church today I let myself hope that maybe that was the reason,” she said. “That maybe you loved me the way I love you but, like me, you’d been too afraid to say anything. That wasn’t the reason I left Gaston, but it’s what gave me the strength to, that hope. I never…”

Belle didn’t get to finish her thought because suddenly Gold’s lips were on hers, soft and warm, fitting together more perfectly than she ever could have imagined. She let out a sob at the sheer relief of finally kissing him. Her hands slipped beneath his jacket, feeling the heat of him through his silk dress shirt and his big, warm hand trailed down from her cheek to her neck, tilting her face to the side so he could kiss her deeper. Belle shivered, the feel of his kisses and his warmth and his hands on her all too much, reducing her to a raw nerve.

“You’re freezing,” he said, pulling back with a look of concern.

Belle shook her head. “Burning up.”

Gold stepped out of the circle of her arms but Belle could barely voice her protest before he’d shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it instead around her bare shoulders. Gold was left in his shirtsleeves, as casual as she ever saw him. She had the overwhelming desire to strip away the rest, his tie and sleeve garters and cufflinks, to uncover every bit of him. For now she satisfied herself with hauling him back against her and kissing him again.

Gold dropped his cane, the handle thumping dully against the straw strewn wooden slats of the floorboards. His hands went to Belle’s waist, holding on to her for balance instead. Belle’s hands went to Gold’s tie, pulling at the knot without ever breaking their kiss. She had it undone with a few quick movements, pulling it from around his neck and casting it aside. When she started on the buttons of his shirt though, Gold froze, pulling back.

“What are we doing?” he asked. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing above his open collar and Belle was mesmerized, her eyes tracing down to the triangle of skin exposed by his lack of tie and open buttons.

“You love me,” she said, more assuredly than she felt. For all the implications and the heated kisses, he’d yet to actually say the words.

“Yes,” he said, his voice desperate and yearning. Belle bit her lip, smiling up shyly at him.

“Well I love you too,” she said. “We’re just expressing that.”

Gold shook his head.

“Belle, sweetheart, you deserve so much better.”

“Than you?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I was actually talking about the barn, but, yes, now that you mention it,” Gold quipped.

Belle snorted a laugh. “There is no one better than you, silly. Not for me.”

Gold looked torn for a moment, the longing in his eyes clear, but still hesitant.

“I want you,” Belle said, her hands sliding up his chest and back down to his waist. “And I don’t care where or how, I just want you.”

Something broke in Gold’s eyes, like a tether that had snapped free, and he grabbed Belle by the elbows, pulling her against his chest. Any hesitancy seemed to disappear, his hands roaming her waist, her back, down to cup her backside through her many layers of skirt. His lips slid from her mouth to her neck, down and across her collarbones, biting and sucking. Belle buried her hands in his long, silky hair, holding on for dear life as he devoured her. His slight end of the day stubble rasped against the sensitive skin of her chest and she wondered how that same stubble might feel slightly lower down. It was an answer she wasn’t likely to get tonight if her wedding dress had anything to say about it.

Belle had been wearing the confining and restricting gown all day and she was tired of it. The bodice was tight to create more cleavage than she had in reality and a tiny cinched waist. The skirt full and wide, made up of layers and layers of expensive fabric to fully showcase the amount of wealth the Chevaliers had to spend on such a thing. It was heavy and uncomfortable and Belle wanted it off for more reasons than one.

The back of her dress was secured with a row of tiny, satin covered buttons she’d been unable to undo by herself, but she wasn’t alone now.

“How do we get this ridiculous thing off?” Gold asked, as if reading her mind, his hands bunched in her copious skirts.

“Buttons,” she managed to gasp out, shrugging off Gold’s jacket and twisting away from him to reveal her back. “Lots of buttons.”

“Christ,” Gold muttered under his breath, setting to work on the delicate buttons holding the dress together. It had taken Ruby and Dorothy a solid 15 minutes to do them all up this morning and Belle was sure she’d die of frustration if it took Gold equally as long to get them undone. “This is the reason zippers were invented, you know.”

“Says a man who still wears sleeve garters,” Belle joked. Gold leaned forward, nipping her on the shoulder in retaliation and startling a moan from her. “Hurry up!”

Gold’s usually steady hands were shaking, making his task increasingly difficult. He’d only managed to undo a few of the buttons when Belle heard him let out a frustrated sigh.

“Fuck it,” he said, and Belle thrilled at the sound of the swear word in his deep brogue. The next thing she knew he’d seized both halves of the back of her dress and pulled as hard as he could. There was the sound of ripping fabric, buttons flying across the barn, and she suddenly could breathe so much easier than she had all day.

The bodice of her gown hung around her waist looking limp and sad and Belle was quick to shimmy the dress the rest of the way down her legs until it pooled at her feet, a mountain of ivory silk, organza and tulle.

While Belle was busy looking at the remnants of her wedding dress, Gold was staring at her, his eyes tracing her curves. Belle was wearing her wedding lingerie, an ivory corset and matching lace panties, bought to be seen by someone else entirely.

Gold coughed, looking down at the dress instead.

“I hope you weren’t planning on wearing that again,” he said.

Belle snorted. “Not bloody likely.”

“So,” he continued nervously. “It’s over, your relationship.”

Belle smiled sadly, stepping out of the ring of her ruined dress. Here she was on what should have been her wedding night, stripped down to her underwear with someone other than her would be husband. She’d destroyed her relationship with Gaston just as assuredly as they’d destroyed her dress. She couldn’t find it in herself to regret either decision.

“I don’t think I could have been more clear on that than when I literally ran from my wedding,” she said, wrapping her arms back around Gold’s neck. “I don’t love him. I love you. Let me show you.”

Belle had taken the lead with words, but Gold took the lead with actions, laying her down across the floor of the barn, using the spread out skirts of her wedding dress to cushion her. All that fabric came in handy after all, Belle thought as Gold joined her, stretching out above her. He kissed her again, his mouth hot against hers as she went to work on the buttons of his shirt, showing more care than he had with hers. When she had his shirt open, she slid her hands inside, reveling in the feel of his skin beneath her palms. His skin was warm and smooth, much less hairy than what she was used to with Gaston. She let her fingers trail down across his belly, tugging on the sparse hair that trailed from his belly button down beneath the waistband of his trousers. Gold’s stomach muscles bunched and jumped beneath her touch and she could feel the swell of him in his trousers against her thigh. She wanted him, all of him. With that in mind she pulled his belt loose, undoing his trousers and slipping a hand down the front of his boxers until she could feel the hot, hard length of him in her hand.

Gold hissed, his kisses growing sloppy, teeth bumping against hers. His calloused hands were making their own exploration of her body, sliding down the length of her corset to tickle along the exposed strip of flesh between her corset and panties. They skimmed her hips, down the soft skin of her thighs until his hands came back up, pushing her thighs apart so he could lie more comfortably between them. Then his hands traveled back up to her chest, cupping her breasts in the silk and lace corset, while he trailed kissed down across her sternum.

Belle couldn’t quite believe she was here, on her back in her favorite place with her favorite person between her legs. She chuckled out a laugh, her hand tightening around Gold’s cock.

He groaned, pulling back from where he’d been in her cleavage.

“What?” he asked, looking positively wild. His hair was disheveled, his shirt hanging open, his pants sliding down his hips leaving him utterly exposed.

Belle smiled up at him. “I’m just happy,” she said truthfully. “I never thought I would be again but here I am, happy.”

“Oh Belle,” he said, cupping her cheek. “This is only the beginning.”

With that he tugged her panties down, drawing a sharp gasp from Belle, and cast them aside. A moment later he was answering her question of how his stubble would feel lower down.

Bloody unbelievable was the answer.

The fingers of one hand laced with Belle’s, his other hand splayed across her stomach, keeping her in place as his tongue worked magic between her thighs. Belle was shaking, her free hand gripping Gold’s hair as he lapped at her, his tongue swirling around her clit, his lips soft in contrast with the harder strokes of his tongue.

She was so close to the edge, but she wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

“Wait,” she panted out, grabbing at Gold’s shoulders. “I want to feel you when I come. Please.”

Gold planted one last kiss on her mound before crawling back up her body, once again bracing himself above her.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any…I wasn’t exactly planning for this.”

If she hadn’t been so keyed up, Belle would have laughed again. This was her wedding night, after all. She’d planned, even if tonight had gone beautifully off script.

“We’re good,” she said, reaching down to wrap her hand around his cock and line them up.

A moment later he’d pushed into her with a groan. Belle gripped on to his back, her legs wrapping around his waist. God he felt good, better than anything had ever felt in her entire life. She was already so wet that he slid in with ease, resting his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” he said, his voice full of wonder as though he couldn’t believe this was happening. Belle kissed him, one hand tangling in the hair at his nape.

“I love you, too.”

Gold’s lips twitched up in a smile, his hips starting to move against hers. Belle’s back arched off the rich fabric, her chest pressing against Gold’s. She wished she’d bothered to take off her corset, to feel every inch of him pressed against her. But there would be time for that, there would be time for everything. For the first time ever her life stretched out before her and didn’t feel like a burden, something she would have to bear bravely with no hope for joy beyond knowing she’d done her duty. Now her future seemed limitless. She’d been lost and now she was found.

She could feel every blessed inch of Gold’s cock as he pushed in to her, stretching her in just the right ways. Her hands grabbed at his arms, her head thrown back in pleasure.

She could feel how tightly wound Gold was, his muscles tense and straining. He wasn’t going to last long, but Belle didn’t care. She’d been on edge for so long and she was ready to fall over that peak.

Suddenly Gold sat back on his knees, pulling Belle with him by the hips so they were still joined. The angle changed, her backside resting against his thighs as he continued to thrust into her. She was completely exposed to him now and Gold dropped one hand to where they were joined, his thumb brushing against her clit with every thrust. He was hitting her so deep she could see stars, his fingers strumming against her in just the right way and Belle couldn’t hold on anymore. She came hard, with a shout, her hands grabbing at the dress spread out beneath her, twisting the once pristine ivory fabric in her fists. Her body was shaking, an exposed nerve, unable to control the convulsions Gold was coaxing out of her. He continued thrusting shallowly until he spilled himself with a grunt, falling forward and bearing Belle down on to her now thoroughly stained wedding dress.

She was still shaking slightly as Gold trailed a hand up and down her arm. She’d never felt anything like that, nothing that intense, not even by her own hand.

Gold reached over to the side, finding his suit jacket on the ground next to them and pulled it over on to Belle to cover her. But her shivers weren’t from cold, just from the best bloody orgasm she’d ever had in her entire pathetic life. If he could do that, why had then been wasting all this time not fucking?

She didn’t realize she’d voiced the question aloud until Gold let out a hearty laugh beside her.

“As I recall, one of us was otherwise engaged,” he said, threading a hand through the dark curls that had fallen from their copious pins.

“Right,” she said with a sigh, the real world threatening to encroach on her happy little cocoon. “Stupid waste of time.”

Gold chuckled again and Belle looked at him critically.

"What now?"

“I just never imagined our first time would be in a barn,” he said with a shake of his head. Belle arched an eyebrow at his choice of words.

“So you imagined our first time then?” she asked.

Gold opened his mouth but no sound came out at first. “I…indulged in certain fantasies,” he said finally. “I just never thought any of them would come true.”

Belle found herself intrigued, enjoying this playful mood. She pushed herself up on to her elbows, rolling on to her stomach so she could look down at Gold.

“Well in these fantasies, where were we?”

“My bed, mostly,” Gold said.

Belle made a face. “That seems like a failure of imagination.”

“It’s a very comfortable bed,” Gold said with a little nod of his head. He had his arms behind his head, his face relaxed, he looked younger than she’d ever seen him, boyish even. She leaned down to kiss him again, unable to imagine a world where she didn’t get to kiss Liam Gold any time she wanted.

“I look forward to sleeping in your bed then,” she said in what she hoped was a seductive voice. “Or not sleeping as it were.”

Gold smiled but there was something dark and feral in his eyes at her words.

“I had some more adventurous fantasies involving my shop as well,” he said with a smirk.

“I’d love to hear all about them,” Belle said, snuggling in to his side.

Outside, the rainstorm had passed. She could smell the fresh earth, hear the soft chirping of the crickets in the summer evening. Eventually they’d have to get up, go back to town – and good God what was she going to wear for that trek? She was going to have to talk to her father and Gaston and face the eyes and judgment of all the guests who had seen her run from the church that afternoon. But for now, cuddled up with Gold on the floor of the old barn as he whispered filthy things in her ear, she’d never felt happier.


End file.
